Silent Night
by Smitty91
Summary: Little Stewie stays up all night long on Christmas Eve, worried sick about Brian being out all by himself, waiting for his best friend to return home safe and sound.


Silent Night

Why did this always happen to him? This was the question that Brian was constantly racking over and over again in his brain as he drove down the streets of Quahog, Rhode Island in his economy-friendly Prius.

Once again another date with one of his potential mates had crashed and burned. He had met the young woman at a book club, him having filled in for Lois when she had been able to attend, Peter not wanting to do it. While earning the girl's phone number and a date had been worth it, he admitted to himself that he had thoroughy enjoyed himself and wouldn't mind attending the next one. Of course he'd had to read the first few chapters of the book in order to make sure that he was caught up with the others. Him being a fast, avid reader, it hadn't taken him long at all to get to the point that everyone else was at, and he had enjoyed the story during his time, although in a household with a dysfunctional family such as his, finding a quiet place to read was hard. It was at times like these he was grateful that they had the den, his favorite place to do his reading since it was quiet, away from the others, and hardly anyone ever went in anyway. For him (and occasionally Stewie) it was like his own little hangout, aside from the Drunken Clam.

That was where he was headed now to drown out the horrid memory of his date. He shook his head as he recalled it. He had waited for well over an hour and a half before realizing that she wasn't going to show up. Funny thing was, though, that most of his dates at least showed up. If not, then they at least gave him a phone call and let him know that they were either going to be late or weren't going to show up at all. This girl, on the other hand, hadn't even bothered to give him a phone call to let him know that she wasn't going to show up. He had sent her text messages and left her messages on her voicemail. Even now he didn't understand why she hadn't bothered to text him back or return his calls in spite of the fact that he had given her his phone number in exchange for hers.

The brakes of the Prius squeaked as it came to a stop just outside of the Drunken Clam. Stepping out he locked up the car before stepping inside the bar that he had come to familiarize himself with. It was like a second home to him. Not only that, but it was a great place to pick up dates. Ordinarily, that would have been a good reason for him to be at the bar now. Unfortunately, he wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone. He just wanted to have a couple of drinks and then go home and go to bed.

A wave of heat hit him as he stepped through the entrance, contrasting completely with the cold winds of winter that usually came with Christmastime. He stopped to observe the cherry-looking environment that Quahog was decked out in this time of the year every year. The townsfolk went all out during Christmastime, decorating the light posts, store windows, houses, mailboxes, and anything else in wreaths and Christmas lights. Some light posts even had Christmas angels attached to them. From here Brian could clearly see the Christmas tree located in the town square, it towering over even the tallest of buildings, its star on top shining brighter than all of the other stars in the sky and making them envious of its brilliant light and beauty.

Even the Drunken Clam had been bitten by the Christmas bug, Horace having covered the building with Christmas lights that seemed to dance to their own rhythm, some lights flashing and others fading into darkness at timed intervals. There was a wreath attached to the front of the door, a bright red bow tied around it, and the windows had even been caught by the Christmas spirit, them showing special discounts and offers on display. For the longest time, up until New Year's that is, there was a special "Buy One, Get One Free" deal for any beverage, including all alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks. Of course this was too great a deal to pass up and no one was immune to its offer. The crowded bar was evidence of this fact as it seemed that every bar and table was filled with people. Granted, most of them were probably just inside the bar to get warm and combat the winter cold, but still . . .

The door closed behind the small, stout dog as he walked in. For a few seconds he merely looked around the room, surprised that he didn't find Peter or any of his friends and neighbors among those who sat drinking and talking. He sighed in relief when he noticed that there was still one remaining spot at the bar. He took it before anyone else had a chance to take it.

"Hey, Brian," Horace greeted him. "The usual?"

The dog gave the portly man a nod and looked around the room once more while Horace fixed him his drink. Most of the people in the bar were humans. There were others that were different, like him, but nonetheless contributing members of society and equal members of the town after having spent their years in the 1960s alongside blacks and women and many years thereafter struggling to obtain their equal rights.

For starters there was a portly skunk and very slim-looking raccoon. The skunk had brilliant green eyes and the raccoon was a little brown fellow with white fur from its muzzle to its belly, its paws, feet, ears, mask, and the rings on its tail all black. The two were so different from each other in both looks and personality (as evidenced by their body language and the way they interacted with the others who inhabited the bar) that it seemed the two of them were the most unlikely of allies. The two of them were sitting rather close to each other, snuggling close, warming each other with their body heat, their tails coiled around each other. They were both clearly male, their voices, body language, and behavior all clear indicators of this fact. They were both drinking mugs of boiled custard, both probably with a mixture of alcohol just for the hell of it. How the two of them had fallen in love with each other, Brian didn't know. All he knew was that he was envious of them. Why was it so easy for others to find that special someone while he was having to bend over backwards just to get a date?!

A few tables over there was another couple: a red fox and a bunny. The fox had beige fur from its muzzle to its rump, the tip of its tail also a beige color. The fox, like the raccoon not too far away from him, had blue eyes, just as his companion. The bunny, on the other hand, was a light brown color. Its paws, feet, ears, the fur on its head, and the fur around its nose were all dark brown. From its chest to its fluffy was a light shade of brown. Its tail was a two-tone color, one side being a very light brown and the other being a very dark brown. Just as the raccoon and the skunk, the two of them were sitting rather close to one another, warming each other, tightly embraced and sharing kisses and hugs, the tail of the fox wrapped around the bunny to keep the little fellow even warmer.

"Here ya go, Brian."

Said dog turned back towards the front to see that a shot glass had been placed in front of him, filled with scotch. He gave a grateful nod to Horace before downing the shot in one swig and setting it down, only to have it instantly refilled by Horace before the man turned to attend to the other bar attendees.

As he downed several more shots of scotch, Brian continued to look around the room, finding out early on that the two interspecies couples weren't the only ones who had a special someone. It seemed almost everyone in the bar had a special someone, unlike him. He was the only one that was without someone, a fact that only depressed him more. Realizing this, he banged on the bar and his shot glass was instantly filled and he quickly downed what felt like his twentieth shot of scotch. Already he was beginning to feel light-headed.

* * *

The dog had been gone for well over an hour and little Stewie was beginning to get worried. Brian had said that he'd only be gone for a while. Where the hell was he? Stewie didn't know and he couldn't possibly get to sleep knowing that Brian was out there in this weather? From his position in his crib he looked over at the window to see that snow was falling. The Weather Channel had announced that Quahog, Rhode Island was expecting a good few inches of snow, and Stewie dreaded the idea of Brian attempting to drive home while it was snowing. Everyone else had been alerted to stay home to avoid any potential accidents. Unfortunately, this hadn't kept Brian from his date, and Stewie, as well as that bitch of a mother Lois, had tried to talk the dog out of it, to stay home where he would be safe and warm. Where was Brian now? He didn't know. For the briefest of moments a mental picture of Brian shuddering from the cold, freezing to death while trying to find shelter from the cold in a nearby gutter flashed through little Stewie's mind, and he himself shuddered at the thought. Where was his little buddy?

Sighing in distress, Stewie glanced over at his little teddy bear, Rupert, the one comapnion who'd always been there for him, long before he and Brian had become good friends. The two of them still spent a great deal of time together, but not nearly as much as he and Brian did. He and the dog had been through so much together, had grown so much in their relationship over the years. They'd gone from despising each other, from shooting insults and jabs at one another, to damn near best friends. While he wouldn't admit to the dog (hell, he wouldn't even admit it to himself at times) he had a great deal of respect and love for the dog. One could even easily say that he was in love with Brian, infatuated with the family pet. Granted, he'd become rather close to admitting his true feelings for Brian during their adventure in the bank vault, but had been quick and had covered it up at the last second, though he sensed that Brian felt the same way towards him as well, despite that Brian let it rarely show, as did he.

The house was warm to combat the cold winds outside, so Stewie was feeling a little hot. He was outfitted in his typical blue sleeper. He unzipped the zipper and slid his arms and legs through the sleeves until he was left in nothing but his diaper. He tossed the sleeper aside. Ahh, that was better. While a little chilly, at least he was no longer freezing his gnads off.

Reaching over he grabbed Rupert by the arm and pulled the bear close, snuggling the soft furry stuffed animal against his chest, the two of them kept warm and comfortable by the blankets that covered Stewie's crib. Turning over onto his back he stared up at the mobile above his head, it emiting a cherry little tune that seemed to cause him to stick his thumb in his mouth and begin to suck on it. Without warning, his eyes began to droop, him feeling sleepy for having stayed up for so long waiting on Brian. By this time everyone else had fallen asleep, and he supposed that he himelf should have been getting some sleep himself.

No! Not yet! His eyes popped open and he strained himself to stay awake. He had to. He wouldn't rest until he knew that Brian was home safe and sound. He'd wait all night if it had to, even if he had Christmas to look forward to the following morning.

Really, who the hell decided to go out on a date on Christmas Eve instead of spending time at home with their family? Brian had always been the family-oriented person of the family, seeming to want to do anything to keep the family happy, safe, comfortable. He had gotten a job just to keep the family afloat during Peter's absence when the man and his beer buddies were presumed dead. It was really touching how Brian could be so loving and caring towards the family. Stewie knew, however, that all the dog's loyalty, love, and care were all targeted towards Stewie, the one person he truly cared about.

If that was so, then why wasn't the dog here at this moment, sleeping beside Stewie like the two of them had often done? It depressed Stewie when he couldn't find an answer to this simple question, and he hated of what Brian would be like when he got home. Most likely the date had ended in failure and Brian had gone to the Clam to drown his sorrows with alcohol as he oftentimes did. Then, he would come home, drunk, and pass out somewhere between the living room and either Stewie's bedroom or Peter and Lois's bedroom. The dog always did. Why did Brian always put himself through this drivel? Stewie was unsure, but he hated Brian the way he was after another failed relationship. Surely the dog was sick and tired of trying to find that special someone. Little did Brian know that his special someone was closer to his heart than the dog knew.

Oh, sure, as stated before, Stewie had come rather close to admitting his feelings to Brian very often, but never truly came close to spilling his guts about how he truly felt towards the family dog. What he'd said to Brian during their talk in the bank vault had been true, all from the heart. If it weren't for Brian, Stewie would see no reason to live, other than trying to kill his mother, but even that got dull after a while. Brian was his only reason for living, the one face he looked forward to seeing in the morning. If Brian should ever pass away (and he would eventually, Stewie knew) the baby would be unsure of what to do with himself, unsure of how to cope. The dog meant more to him than anyone else in the family. As he'd told Brian, the dog was the only one in the family that Stewie truly cared about, truly loved. He never really cared for anyone else. Just Brian.

At least Rupert was doing his part to comfort little Stewie. Still, Brian should have been here with him, keeping him safe, warm, comfortable. Why wasn't he? Didn't Brian know that he could always come talk to him whenever he had issues, especially ones related to relationships. While the baby was no expert on relationships (he'd been through quite a number of them himself, though) he could at least give advice as to how Brian should cope and what Brian should do next. Come to think of it, Stewie didn't know why he kept urging Brian to keep pushing forward, to keep trying, to keep looking for that special someone, constantly reassuring the dog that he would find that special someone eventually. Perhaps he did it because he was afraid of rejection, afraid that Brian would never want to have anything to do with him ever again if he knew the truth.

He smiled to himself. While his personality made it seem as though he was not afraid of anything, there was one thing he was afraid of: being rejected by his one true love. He tried to keep his fears from being known from the others. Brian was one of those characters who could easily see past his charade, could see that Stewie had fears just like everyone else and he was merely doing his best to keep them covered up. It was as if the dog had some sort of special power that enabled him to look deep into one's soul and see their deepest, darkest secrets and fears, which was a scary thought when one thougth about it.

Frustrated with trying to get to sleep, Stewie sat up and angrily threw Rupert across the room. The stuffed bear slammed against the wall across from him and fell to the floor. Damn it! There was no way he was going to get any sleep at this rate, not until he was certain that Brian was back home, safe and sound. With his mind made up, Stewie climbed out of his crib and walked downstairs to the living room and sat on the couch to wait for Brian to get home.

* * *

It was well past midnight and Brian was well past the stage of being only "slightly drunk." By this time he'd lost count of how shot glasses of scotch he'd downed. In spite of this, however, he was certain that he could drive home safely. The Drunken Clam wasn't too far away from Spooney Street anyway. Besides, it wasn't as if he could spend the night at the Clam anyway. Horace had cut him off some time ago and the other bar attendees had already gone home, including the two interspecies couples who had been in the bar when Brian had first arrived.

Now it was just Horace and Brian alone in the bar, the dog sitting at the bar and the man behind the bar cleaning up the mugs and the bar in general while the dog sat staring out into space, looking totally spaced out. He'd been sitting that way for quite some time and Horace was starting to worry. Setting the cloth and the mug he'd been cleaning down, he walked over to Brian and gently shook him, calling the dog's name.

It took Brian a while to realize that his name was being called. He was totally out of it. He shook his head and put a quivering paw to his forehead, feeling woozy. He leaned forard, resting his elbows on the bar while he rubbed his temples, attempting but failing to drive away the headache that was pounding in his head, making it feel as if someone were slamming the head of a hammer against his skull.

"Why don't you go on and head home, Brian?" Horace suggested as he continued to clean. "You've had enough for one night."

The dog let out a sigh. He had no other choice other than to go home. He looked out the window. It was snowing.

Wait!

It was snowing? When had that happened? It must have been going on for a while since the streets were absolutely covered in the white stuff. At least half of his tires were buried under a mound of snow.

He shrugged his shoulders, deciding that Horace was right. He should have been heading home. Home was where he should have been anyway. He should have been with his family for the evening, not alone in some bar trying to drink away his troubles. He hopped off the bar stool and made his way towards the front entrance, swaying back and forth along the way, clumsily walking from side to side.

"Hey," Horace called, "you okay to drive home by yourself?"

The dog turned his head and weakly nodded. "Y-Yeah," he slurred. "I should . . . should be all right."

Horace only nodded as he kept wiping down the bar.

* * *

Stewie looked out the window at the falling snow. Every now and then he would see a pair of headlights and would get his hopes up, only to have them dashed time and time again when he discovered that it wasn't Brian as the driver. He sighed and turned, returning to his spot on the couch. For over a half-hour he'd been waiting for Brian and he was about to give up. He was tired, somewhat cold, and needed to be changed. In the time he'd spent waiting for the dog he'd already used his diaper for its intended purpose, not that he minded, mind you. He actually liked the feeling of a full diaper. He liked the thickness it provided between his legs. Mind you, he didn't like staying in a full diaper for too long since he could potentially get a rash, then an infection, and he wasn't going to spend his Christmas with an infection, damn it!

He needed to be changed, but the only problem was that he didn't feel like waking Lois. He supposed he could wait until Brian got home for the dog to change him, but who knew when that would be? He needed to be changed now! If he waited too long he would get a rash. His mind was made up on the matter and he walked up the stairs to the fat man and Lois's bedroom.

Lois changed him promptly and then put him back to bed with a bottle of apple juice after she had changed him back into his jammies. He didn't feel like going back to bed. As soon as Lois was back in her room he crawled out of his crib once again and tarried downstairs, taking the bottle of apple juice with him, not able to resist the delicious taste of the beverage, it being one of his favorites. Most likely he would need to be changed once again by the time Brian got home.

He sat on the couch drinking his apple juice and occasionally smacking his lips, savoring the sweet taste of the artifically-flavored juice. He stared blankly at the television in front of him, it not turned on. It was just as well. There would probably not be anything good on anyway. There never was. Most likely there was nothing on but Christmas specials, it being Christmas Eve and all, and TBS was most likely showing their twenty-four-hour run of _A Chritmas Story_. He shook his head. What genius had thought that would be a bright idea? He wanted to kill the man responsible!

He let out a yawn, fanning his hand in front of his mouth, setting the bottle aside and stretching his arms afterward. He stretched himself out on the couch, unable to fight his tired state. Still feeling a little overheated, he stripped himself down to his diaper, kicking the sleeper and letting it fall to the floor. He grabbed one of the nearest pillows and lied down, only to sit up momentarily later to realize that he didn't have anything to snuggle with while he slept. He liked having something to sleep with. So, with that, he went back upstairs to his bedroom and retrieved Rupert before going back downstairs and going to sleep on the living room couch.

* * *

There was hardly anyone on the road, so that was a plus on Brian's part. Driving drunk with no one on the road was hard enough. It would have been hell for him to attempt the same thing with multiple vehicles on the road. He was constantly swaying back and forth across either lane of the street while struggling to stay awake, his eyes constantly falling, only to have him swiftly react and pop them open soon afterward in his efforts to keep going. He was losing the battle, unfortunately, and he wouldn't have been surprised if he fell asleep at the wheel and crashed into a nearby tree. Damn his inability to hold his liquor!

He was nearly home, only a few more feet until he was able to pull into the driveway. He just needed to stay awake that long and then when he got home he could go to bed.

Hopefully.

Luckily, the headlights were enough to keep him awake, but just barely. His eyelids kept drooping and he nearly kept falling asleep at the wheel. Before someone had left he should have asked them to be the designated driver. He should have known that he wouldn't have been able to drive home in this state. He was sure no one would have minded giving him a ride home. The two interspecies couples, from the little that he'd observed of them, seemed like okay guys, friendly folk who would have gladly given him a ride home without question. Unfortunately for him, he'd been too depressed to ask them.

His spirits were lifted as he recognized the familiar-looking beige house that he'd lived in ever since he was a pup. He smiled to himself and turned the steering wheel to the left, turning into the driveway. Ever since the family had gotten two vehicles (his Prius and the family car) they had widened the driveway to accompany both cars. Other times one vehicle would be parked in the garage and the other would be left out on the driveway.

The headlights were shut off and the engine died down as he pulled back on the key and pulled it out of the ignition. He let out a sigh and opened the car door, quietly shutting it and preparing himself to enter his home.

* * *

Stewie's eyes popped open as he heard the sound of a car door opening. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. He walked over to the living room widnow and pressed his cheek against the window so that he could see out the window, giving him a somewhat clear view of the driveway. As soon as he recognized the grey Prius in the driveway, his heart started fluttering and he charged at the front door, suddenly full of energy, hopping up and down excitedly, waiting anxiously for his buddy to walk in through the front door.

* * *

The door knob was out of focus. Brian kept trying to grasp it, but it kept moving. It either moved to the left or to the right. He kept shooting his paw forward, only to draw it back once again, as if the knob was scalding hot or as if it would bite down on his paw if he attempted to grasp it. He let out a frustrated growl and grabbed hold of the knob.

* * *

The front door swung open and Brian collapsed to the floor like a stick of lead.

"Oh, for God's sake . . ." Stewie grumbled, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. He walked over to Brian. Grabbing the dog by his collar, he slapped the dog constantly, attempting but failing to wake him up. "Come on, you, wake up!" The dog gave no response and the baby growled angrily. He reared back his fist and socked Brian in his big, round black nose. "Wake up!"

The dog's eyes shot open and he looked around wildly. His face suddenly grimaced and he put a paw to his head. "Oh, my head . . ." He stiffened suddenly upon feeling someone clutching him. Liking the warm, fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach, he smiled down at the baby hugging him and he couldn't help himself but return the embrace.

"Oh, Brian, thank God you're home," the baby cried happily, burying his face in the soft whtie fur on the dog's belly. He pulled back and glared at the dog, tears forming in his eyes. He suddenly slapped Brian across the face, anger suddenly burning in his eyes. He grabbed Brian by his collar and angrily shook him. "Where the hell have you been? Do you have any idea how worried I've been?"

"I . . ." Brian didn't know what to say. The only comprehensive thing that he could think of to say would be for him to apologize. "I'm sorry."

"Damn right you should be sorry!"

"Look, Stewie, just calm down!" He was slapped across the face once again.

"Don't tell me to calm down, you son of a bitch! You made me stay up all night waiting on your ass!"

Brian gave the baby a nod of understanding before glancing down and noticing the baby's diaper sagging, him having wet it during his sleep. "Looks like you could use a change."

The baby's expression softened and he looked down at his wet diaper and he nodded his head. "Oh . . . yeah . . ." He looked up at the dog. "Would you mind . . ."

The dog nodded. "Sure!"

Stewie took Brian by the paw and led him upstairs to his bedroom. He was lifted up off the floor and placed on the changing table by Brian. He lied perfectly still as Brian untaped his wet diaper and folded it up, tossing it aside in the diaper pail by the changing table before reaching down into one of the crates and pulling out a couple of baby wipes, followed by a fresh diaper from one of the other crates. He cleaned off Stewie's genitals and his buttocks, then put the fresh diaper on him. While it wasn't necessary, Stewie felt the need to show his gratitude by a soft, "Thank you."

Brian smiled. "Anytime, Stewie." He picked the baby up and carried him over to his crib, tucking him and smiling down at him, petting the baby affectionately on the cheek with the back of his paw. "Sleep tight, Stewie." He leaned down and tenderly kissed Stewie on the forehead. He turned and prepared to leave the room to go to Peter and Lois's bedroom to go to sleep, only to be abruptly stopped. He turned his head to see that Stewie was tightly gripping his paw and staring at him. He turned, once again facing Stewie. "What is it?"

"Would you mind sleeping with me tonight, Brian?" Stewie inquired sweetly. "There's no need waking the fat man and Lois."

Once Brian thought about it, he figured that Stewie was correct. Lowering the railing, he climbed in Stewie's crib and lied down next to Stewie, covering himself up with the baby's favorite blue blanket, his feet being the only parts of his body visible. He and Stewie faced each other, staring at each other's eyes, smiling at each other. "Good night, kid."

Stewie yawned and then let out a weak, "Good night, dog." He snuggled close to Brian and prepared to go to sleep.

* * *

"Wake up, dog!"

Brian let out a groan, feeling a sharp kick to his side. He rolled over onto his side to see Stewie smiling down at him, grinning from ear to ear, his eyes wide with wonder. He sat up, only to crash back down on the bed once again upon feeling a pain in his head. He let out a groan and rubbed his head.

"Get up," Stewie said urgently, shaking Brian by the collar. "If you think I'm spending Christmas by myself with those imbecils that we call a family, then you, sir, are sadly mistaken! Now, get up!"

Brian groaned. "All right, all right." He sat up and watched as Stewie climbed down out of his crib, him doing the same once Stewie was safely on the floor. The two of them walked down the stairs, paw in hand, both smiling widely, Brian in spite of his hangover. Peter, Lois, and the kids were already knelt at the Christmas tree, each exchanging presents and eagerly ripping apart the wrapping paper, Chris and Peter especially, Lois and Meg being more respectable about their unwrapping. Stewie and Brian joined them, also sitting on their knees. They were handed their gifts and Stewie, much like Peter and Chris, eagerly opened his present while Brian, as Meg and Lois were doing, took his time with opening his gifts.

For Stewie, he received a shiny red ball, much to his pleasure, as evidenced by his excited giggling as he bounced the ball.

For Brian, he received a couple of books, as well as a flask, seeing as how his other one was getting old.

Staring at one another, the dog and baby smiled at each other.

"I guess it's time for us to exchange presents," Stewie suggested. He crawled over to the tree and looked around before reaching around the back and retrieving a box-shaped present wrapped in red wrapping paper with green Christmas trees on it and green ribbons tied around it and a bow on top. Standing up, holding the present in his hands, he walked back over to Brian and handed the dog the present, smiling from ear to ear, saying simply, "Merry Christmas, dog."

Brian took the present carefully, gently lifting the tag and reading it. "To, Brian. From, Stewie." There was little devil beside the baby's name and he smiled to himself. It was probably done deliberately by Stewie for a laugh. He gently tugged at one of the folded pieces of wrapping paper and tore it off.

"Oh, for God's sake," Stewie cried, exasperated. "Here, let me do it!" Along with Brian, he tore off the wrapping paper at such a fast pace that it didn't take them long at all to reveal what the present was.

Brian removed the top of the white box and gaped at the present within, his eyes wide and his mouth wide. He lifted the present and stared at it before staring at Stewie in awe. It was a beautifully crafted, knitted green and red scarf with threads at the ends.

"I made it myself," Stewie said proudly, beaming. "Do you like it?" He looked hopeful, as if Brian rejecting his gift would crush him.

Fortunately for Stewie, Brian had never had the heart to hurt Stewie's feelings, although he'd done so unintentional on a number of occasions. He ran his fingers across the scarf, amazed at how soft it was, and he couldn't help but rub the scarf against his face, letting out a moan of pleasure at how soft the scarf was. He wrapped it around his neck, tying one end around the middle and allowing it to hang down to his belly. "Oh, I love it!"

Stewie let out a gleeful giggle and tightly hugged Brian before stepping back and looking hopeful at Brian once again, expecting to receive a present from the dog.

Brian rubbed the back of his neck, looking embarrassed. "Sorry, Stewie, but I didn't have any money to get you a present." He looked down, ashamed of himself.

Stewie smiled at the dog. "But you already gave me a Christmas present."

Brian blinked. "You did?"

Stewie nodded. "Uh-huh." He reached forward with a finger and pressed it against Brian's chest, touching the scarf in the process. "You."

Brian couldn't help but smile at the touching sentiment. He leaned forward and gave Stewie a warm hug. To his surprise, however, Stewie pulled back and gave Brian a loving, passionate kiss on his big black nose before snuggling against him once again and whispering, "Merry Christmas, Brian." While it wasn't necessary to respond, Brian felt it was needed: "Merry Christmas to you too, Stewie."


End file.
